Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Honduras and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Crime to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Unwound. All the underground hits.
All Eddi Front tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Clarke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nas,
Darondo,
Unwound,
Iggy Pop,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ken Boothe,
Don Cherry,
Yusef Lateef,
Pantytec,
The Smoke,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
PIL,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Fugs,
John Cale,
Public Enemy,
Black Bananas,
Matthew Bourne,
Danielle Patucci,
Gil Scott Heron,
Moby Grape,
Derrick May,
Prince Buster,
X-102,
Peter and Kerry,
The Buckinghams,
China Crisis,
Alton Ellis,
Deepchord,
The Offenders,
David Axelrod,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Black Pus,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Young Rascals,
Quando Quango,
The Wake,
Mr. Review,
UT,
Tom Boy,
Johnny Clarke,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Connie Case,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pagans,
Amon Düül,
The Gladiators,
Stetsasonic,
Ponytail,
Rites of Spring,
Gabor Szabo,
The Move,
Wire,
Judy Mowatt,
Moebius,
Gichy Dan,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Durutti Column,
Freddie Wadling,
Swell Maps,
Pussy Galore,
Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.